


Sacrifice

by AtropaAzraelle (Polyoxyethylene)



Series: Of Walls and Nerds [26]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Breaking up is hard to do, M/M, brief Prompto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 20:29:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13982778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polyoxyethylene/pseuds/AtropaAzraelle
Summary: Their last day together arrives.





	Sacrifice

“Don't go?”

Ignis felt the words coil around his heart like a snake, constricting until he felt as if he'd suffocate. It was a plea, a soft and desperate plea that Ignis wished he could grant.

They'd known last night would be their last together, and they'd made the most of it. Gladio's lips had trailed fire down Ignis's shoulders and chest. His fingers had sent sparks of pleasure arcing across Ignis's skin. They'd kissed, and touched, and made quiet, fervent love, and then kissed some more until Ignis had fallen asleep in Gladio's arms.

He'd awoken to the sensation of fingers tracing the outline of the feather at his back. For a moment, Ignis had been transported back in time, back to the safety of his bed in Insomnia. Behind the walls the greatest challenge they'd faced was Gladio's duty to his family, and the knowing looks of a Royal Court that considered homosexual relationships something one simply had to get out of one's system. Gladio had spent nights back then etching the shape of Ignis's tattoo into his own mind, a constant, indelible reminder that a part of each of them would always belong to the other.

The memory of all they'd been prepared to fight to stay together caught in Ignis's throat, and it had been Ignis's turn, then, to roll Gladio onto his back. He pressed his love and his devotion into Gladio's mouth and flesh with his lips, and fingers, and cock. He buried his despair with the thrust of his hips, and felt Gladio come apart under and around him before he shattered himself, and collapsed against Gladio.

He'd fallen asleep with Gladio's mouth in his hair and whispered promises of love in his ear, and he'd woken again pinned to Gladio's broad chest by both arms. Gladio's breath rumbled, the occasional snore escaping his throat, and Ignis had no idea what time of day it was. Ordinarily he'd have got up, slipped free of Gladio's hold on him and retreated to the shower, and then the kitchen.

Today Ignis settled his weight against Gladio's form, and listened to the slow and steady thump of Gladio's heart in his chest. He counted the beats, and the spaces between, drumming the timing into his memory like the rhythm of a song for which he already knew the words. He memorised the feel of Gladio's hand splayed, loose against his back, holding him there. He focused on the warm, soft flesh against his cheek, and the even flutter of breath against his hair. If Gladio never woke, he'd never have to leave, he could while away every second until Noct's return and Ardyn's defeat in the peace of Gladio's arms.

He wished he could.

Ignis heard the change in rhythm of Gladio's breath as he woke, and Ignis pressed his lips over Gladio's beating heart. “Don't go?” he asked. “Please?”

“It must be done,” Ignis answered, his voice a whisper, regret burning in his throat.

The arms encircled him more tightly, fingers digging gently into the muscle of his back. “One more day?” Gladio asked. Ignis could hear the strain in his voice, the desperation in the request to procrastinate.

“It'll never be just one,” he said, forcing himself to sit up, shifting his weight off Gladio and onto the mattress as the side of him, pulling away from those arms and trying not to ask himself if it would be the last time he was held that way. “You know that.”

Gladio sighed, a heavy exhalation of resignation that swept into Ignis's ears and heart, and around the room, enveloping them both inside and out. “I'm gonna kill him, Iggy,” he said. “If I get a shot at him before Noct comes back, I'm taking it.”

Ignis frowned. Memories of the frightening extent of Ardyn's power raced to the fore of his mind, bringing with them images of Gladio, broken, battered, or worse, choking for air with Ardyn's boot on his throat. Ignis had fought him, and paid the price. “You will not,” he said.

Silence filled the air, and Ignis wondered what expression Gladio wore. Was he looking at him with a scowl at being told not to engage with Ardyn? Or with sadness at their situation? Or something else? 

A hand brushed against his cheek. Callused fingers caught at his morning stubble until Gladio's palm had settled at the corner of his mouth. “What if I get a shot I know will work?” he asked, with more gentleness than anger.

Ignis swallowed, letting himself smile sadly and tuck his head into Gladio's hand. “You still won't,” he said, “in case it's a trap.”

Gladio's thumb trailed over the curve of Ignis's cheekbone. “All right,” he conceded, a note of bitterness in his tone, “but I'm gonna fantasise about cleaving him in half every night you're not here.”

Ignis lifted his hand, settling his palm over the back of Gladio's hand at his cheek. Gladio's skin was warm, and a little rough, the skin dry from too much fighting and training and not enough moisturiser. “As will I,” he admitted.

The mattress shifted as Gladio leaned in towards him, and Ignis felt warm breath against his lips before Gladio's mouth pressed against his own. He kissed back, sweetly and softly, wishing he could let the kiss linger. Every second had become precious now, and they were running short on them. “Shower with me?” he asked.

“Don't have to ask me twice,” Gladio replied, with an amused lilt that made his voice rise and fall like a wave.

They made love one last time in the shower, with Ignis's back pressed against the cold tiled wall and Gladio on his knees between Ignis's legs. He sucked like he wanted Ignis to last forever, and for a few blissful minutes Ignis's mind was cleared of all concerns for the future. He had nothing but Gladio's mouth at his cock, and Gladio's hands digging into the meat of his ass on his mind. Ignis broke into shivers of pleasure with Gladio's name on his lips, and then tasted himself in Gladio's mouth as he pulled him in for a kiss, holding Gladio as tight to himself as he could, kissing life and love and unspoken promises of a happier future against Gladio's lips while he stroked Gladio to his own completion.

They held onto each other once they were spent, the evidence washing away down the drain with the soap and shampoo. They held and kissed until the water was too cold to bear, and then left the haven of the shower reluctantly. As they dressed, Ignis could feel Gladio's gaze on him. A warm hand settled across Ignis's shoulders as he pulled his shirt sleeve up one arm. He paused, turning his head and his attention towards Gladio as Gladio moved in close once more.

Gladio's rough fingers brushed gently over the back of his shoulder, drawing along the inked lines of Ignis's tattoo once more. Ignis felt his throat tighten, the poignancy of the touch making his heart lurch. This might be the last time in a long time that Gladio might see it.

If they didn't survive it, this could be the last time Gladio _ever_ saw it.

He reached over his shoulders, settling the tips of his fingers across Gladio's own, but he couldn't find the words he needed. There was nothing he could say to soothe this pain for either of them. Any promise they could make to each other had already been made. None of it changed the fact that here and now they were saying farewell.

Their touch lingered in silence, until finally Gladio broke it. “Do you want me to pack your bag?” he asked. Gladio's voice was hushed, and strained, and Ignis could feel the slight tremble in his hand.

“Please?” he replied. Gladio's fingers drawing away from his own left a throbbing ache in his chest, and he let his fingers settle on the skin Gladio had caressed. He'd taken that feather's existence for granted, over the years, and now wished he hadn't. The skin wasn't raised, or rough; it didn't feel any different to the rest of his skin any more. He bore a piece of Gladio as a mark of his love for him. It was as much a part of him as his freckles, and now it was just as invisible to him.

He pushed that thought away and drew his shirt the rest of the way up, covering his shoulder, drawing the tattoo from Gladio's sight, and finished getting dressed. He could hear the sound of Gladio pulling some clothes from their scant wardrobe, folding them carefully, and tucking them into a duffel bag. He tried not to focus on the slow, measured way that Gladio moved, as if he was fighting against his every instinct so that he could carry on with the task.

When Gladio moved into the bathroom to pick up Ignis's toiletries, Ignis drew his phone out. “Call Prompto,” he told it. They'd held off on this moment, using the excuse that Prompto wasn't in town, and so Ignis had few options for people he could go to for a sympathetic ear and a bed. He shared his apartment with Iris, and something about turning to Iris herself after feigning an unresolvable argument with Gladio felt wrong. It would feel as if he was using his blindness to overthrow her loyalty to her brother, even if that wasn't the case.

Prompto, however, had no particular loyalty to either one of them over the other. It wouldn't feel to Ignis as if he was manipulating Prompto if he asked to stay with him for a little while, not as it would with Iris. 

The phone rang three times before a groggy voice answered. “Hey, Iggy, what's up?”

Ignis swallowed, finding it almost impossible to state his request because it would make all of this real. He really was walking away from Gladio. For all they still loved each other, and had sworn they would continue to do so, he was still leaving. “I'm sorry,” he said, “did I wake you?”

Prompto made a non-committal noise that was the verbal equivalent of a shrug. “Pulled an all-nighter getting that last set of refugees in from Galdin. I should get up now anyway.” The line went quiet for a moment, and then Prompto, ever perceptive, asked, “What's wrong?”

Ignis tried to speak, and found the words catching in his throat. If he said it was nothing, if he said he just wanted to invite him to dinner, since they found all three of themselves together so rarely these days, he could avoid going through with it.

“Ignis?”

He couldn't avoid it. As much as it hurt, it was necessary. This ruse was the only way to protect Gladio from further manipulations by Ardyn.

“I need somewhere to stay,” he forced himself to say. “Would it be possible for you to spare your sofa for a few days?”

The line was quiet but for the sound of material shifting. Ignis pictured Prompto sitting upright in his bed. “Ignis, are you okay?”

Ignis inhaled, wresting his self control back from the brink. “I'm fine,” he said, “I'll explain when I see you.” _For a given value of 'see'_ , he added, mentally.

There was a long pause, long enough that Ignis almost wondered if the call had dropped out. He heard Gladio come to stand in the bathroom doorway, leaning himself against the doorjamb as he listened to Ignis's conversation. “Okay,” Prompto answered, eventually. “I'll get dressed,” he said, his voice halting and hesitant, “come up when you're ready.”

“Thank you,” Ignis said, and for a brief second, he wished that Prompto wasn't so accommodating.

The call went dead, and Ignis slipped his phone into his pocket. Only then did Gladio speak. “That's everything,” he said, quietly. “Unless you want the kitchen utensils.”

“You'll need those,” Ignis answered, feeling the weight of the tension in the air settling onto his shoulders.

“You trust me not to live on cup noodles?” Gladio asked, with a spark of warmth and humour in his voice. It was muted, but it was there, and it brought a matching muted smile to Ignis's face.

“Only because they're in short supply,” he answered.

Gladio even managed a soft chuckle. It wasn't enough to dispel the tension in the room, but Ignis was glad to hear it anyway. He heard the shift of material as Gladio picked up the bag containing Ignis's things, and Ignis stood from the bed, knowing that time was ticking inexorably closer to his departure. He made his way to the door, each step feeling as if he was walking to the hangman's noose, and retrieved his stick. The tension weighed heavy over both of them, and Ignis could sense Gladio, close enough that a mere handful of inches would have them touching. “This is temporary,” he said, although he wasn't sure which of them needed the reminder more.

“I know,” Gladio said, quietly. “I still hate it.”

Ignis inhaled, forcing himself to stay in control, and admitted, “So do I,” before he exhaled in a sigh. His breath caught when Gladio's fingers ghosted against his cheek, and he turned his face up towards Gladio's own. 

“No matter what happens,” Gladio said, his voice low, and heavy, his thumb brushing over Ignis's cheek, “I still love you.”

Ignis felt his insides shiver with his desperation to step forward, into Gladio's embrace, and stay there. Forever. For the rest of the dark days until Noct returned he wanted this moment to last, and the next moment never to come. “As long as I draw breath,” he said, “I will love you.”

He felt the soft gust of Gladio's breath against his skin before he felt lips press against his own. Ignis pressed back into it, sliding his free hand up, into Gladio's hair, curling around the back of his neck and holding on as if it would help. Gladio's tongue caressed his own, but it was sweet, and brief, rather than a prelude to more. “I'll love you longer,” Gladio said, his nose touching the tip of Ignis's before he pulled away.

“Don't you dare,” Ignis warned. “You're going to draw breath for a long time yet. We both are.”

Gladio gave a small huff, and then pressed his lips against Ignis's one more time before he stepped back. Ignis's hand fell from around his neck. “Call me when you can?” he asked.

“Of course,” Ignis promised. Then the door opened, and Gladio's hand brushed his as he gave him the bag of his belongings.

Ignis stepped beyond the doorway, using his stick to ensure the coast was clear before he took another step out into the corridor. He paused, turning his ear towards the door to his and Gladio's apartment, and listened as Gladio took one final look at him, and then slowly shut the door. The click of the latch sounded so final that his throat tightened, and it took all his self control not to turn and knock back on that door, begging re-entry.

His resolve wavered when he heard the slow slide of something against the other side of the wood, and then a choked, muffled sob. His heart broke at the sound, and his feet refused to move forward as he listened.

Gladio cried in private, he always had. Ignis had seen him cry for Insomnia, and for Jared, but he knew there had been other tears along the way. There had been tears for Ignis's eyesight and all he'd lost, and Ignis suspected there had been tears for Noctis when the Crystal had taken him too, but Gladio had never allowed Ignis to see those. When he thought Ignis needed him to be strong, Gladio was, until he was alone, and could finally afford to break.

Ignis wasn't sure if he was thankful for that or not in this moment.

He took his own shaky breath, feeling his own eyes prickling with the threat of his own tears, and forced his foot forward to take that step away. The second was no easier, nor was the third, but he pressed on, until the sound of Gladio's despair faded from his ears, leaving only its echoes in his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to everyone that has been reading this series. I know some of you are new and just caught up, and some of you have been with me on this journey for a long, long time. I love and appreciate every single one you more than words can express.


End file.
